Angel In My Heart
by Lyssaphra
Summary: Alternate ending to Becoming I & II. Buffy never returns to Sunnydale, even though Angel does.


Gasping after air she sat up, once again awakened by her nightmares. Tears were running down her cheeks as she got up and stumbled towards the fridge. She gulped down a glass of juice then sank down on the floor, curling herself into a ball. The pain was too great for her, she couldn't stand it. The memories plagued her day as night, she would never get rid of them. She wasn't sure she wanted them to.

The months before she had left Sunnydale had been pure hell. She and her friends were haunted by Angelus and his minions, people died because of them. Of her. And she had not been able to fight him, still seeing the Angel she loved when she looked at him. But in the end, it had been enough. She had not been able to look away from the murder of her sister slayer Kendra, the brutal beatings of her best friends, the torture of her mentor. So she had gone to confront him, not knowing that Willow had decided to give the spell that restored Angel's soul one more try. And so it all ended...

_Buffy got the upper hand in the sword fight and was going to kill him, once and for all, when he gasped and groaned. She stopped and stared at him as his eyes flashed in red, then back to their usual dark color. What was happening?! Angel was staring at her, then he collapsed on the ground, crying. She stared back, still with her sword poised to kill. He rose, his eyes heavy with tears and looked into her eyes. Buffy could read the confusion and pain inside him._

_"Buffy?" he softly sobbed. "What's going on?"_

_She just looked at him, unmoving as he looked around. She did not know what to believe._

_"Where are we?" He asked confusedly. "I-I don't remember."_

_'The curse!' her mind screamed. 'Willow tried the curse!' Cautiously she lowered the sword._

_"Angel?" she questioned, her eyes filling with tears._

_He spotted the wound on her shoulder from Angelus' sword._

_"You're hurt," he pointed out._

_She looked at the wound as he touched it. Ignoring the intensive pain that ripped her body at the touch, she looked at him. Involuntary she stepped closer and he embraced her closely, tears running down his cheeks._

_"Oh, Buffy," he sobbed. "God."_

_'It's him, isn't it?' Still afraid that it was a plot, she accepted the hug but kept her distance._

_"I...," he started, hugging her tighter. "I feel like I haven't seen you in months..."_

_'It's him!' Greedily she accepted the hug, holding him close to her as she breathed out. Buffy closed her eyes and let herself drown in his presence. It really was him!_

_"Oh my god," he sighed. "Everything's so muddled. I..."_

_Angel held her even tighter and kissed her shoulder._

_"Oh, Buffy!"_

_She cried into his shoulder as she hugged him back. Then she heard Acathla rumble and opened her eyes. A vortex was opening, small but growing in a deep red glow. What was she going to do?! Buffy let go and looked him in the face._

_"What's happening?" he worriedly asked._

_Swallowing a sob, she looked at him._

_"Ssh," she whispered softly. "Don't worry about it."_

_She let her fingers brush over his lips and cheek, then put her hand on his cheek and kissed him passionately. Buffy broke the kiss and looked into his eyes._

_"I love you," she whispered sadly._

_"I love you," he replied as she touched his lips with her fingers again._

_"Close your eyes," she asked, swallowing hard. She knew what she had to do._

_He closed his eyes. Deeply touched by his trust she tried to hold back her tears as she kissed him. Then she stepped back, drew her sword and thrust it into his chest. As his eyes whipped open in surprise and pain, she stepped back. A clear light surrounded the sword and Buffy stepped further back. With betrayal in his face, he reached for her and looked at the sword. Her heart shattered at the bewildered look on his face._

_"Buffy!" he whispered painfully as the vortex closed around him, still reaching out for her._

_He was gone. To Hell. She sent him. She sent her true love to Hell to save the world. Fuck the world. Damned be it for taking the only man she would ever love from her. As her heart shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, she sank sobbing onto the ground_.

-#-#-#-

In the instant he saw the painting, he knew that a new great artist was born. It showed a tall, dark man with a fair complexion, dressed in leather pants, a white shirt and a black leather duster. The man was drawn of love, of sorrow as he stood in a cemetery with a loving half smile on his face. Sure, everyone could paint that, but this painting contained so much emotions, and next to the man, written in a beautiful, flowing script, was a poem.

_"Passion_

_It lies in all of us_

_Sleeping...Waiting_

_And though unwanted_

_Unbidden_

_It will stir_

_Open it's jaws and howl_

_It speaks to us_

_Guides us_

_Passion rules us all_

_And we obey_

_What other choice_

_Do we have?_

_Passion_

_Is the source_

_Of our finest moments_

_The joy of love_

_The clarity of hatred_

_The ecstasy of grief_

_It hurts sometimes_

_More than we can bear_

_If we could live without passion_

_Maybe we'd know_

_Some kind of peace_

_But we would be hollow_

_Empty rooms_

_Shuttered and dank_

_Without passion_

_We'd be truly dead"_

He turned the painting, searching for a signature, and found one. It read "Angel".

-#-#-#-

Thomas Doyle finally stood by the door to the apartment the artist who drew the painting lived in. Weeks had gone by since he first saw it, and it had been a struggle to find the artist. But now he knew, if only her name and address. Buffy Summers.

He knocked at the door then waited. Within a minute the door opened, and he found himself staring at a petite blond dressed completely in black. But the fact that immediately caught his eye were the dark circles around her eyes and the fact that her beautiful green eyes were red and puffy.

"Hi!" he smiled. "I'm Doyle. I'm looking for Buffy Summers?"

She just gazed at him

"You're a demon," she calmly stated.

Now he was surprised. How could she know about his parentage? He'd never seen her before! She shouldn't even be aware of the fact that demons existed!

"Half demon," he quickly replied. "My father was a brachen demon. Mother was human."

"Come in," she finally said. "I can defend myself if needed, so don't try anything."

Doyle didn't doubt that. The black tank top with spaghetti straps she wore didn't exactly hide her muscled arms. Or her well-fitted body. He entered, keeping his hands where she could see them. The half demon didn't exactly fancy being beaten up by this blonde. She gestured towards the couch and he sat down.

"What do you want?" she softly asked.

He smiled slightly and leaned back into the couch.

"I saw your art at the spring gallery," he answered. "The man on the cemetery... It was one of the finest pieces of art I've ever seen. It made me wonder who the artist was and if she painted more art. Have you?"

Buffy just gestured around the room.

"Look for yourself," she answered.

And he did. And what he saw amazed him. The walls were filled by framed paintings, showing different people doing different things. One of her favorite people seemed to be the man from the gallery. He was featured on over half of the paintings.

"Who is he?" Doyle quietly asked. "If you don't mind me asking?"

Her eyes saddened and the green eyes filled with pain.

"My lover," she answered. "He's dead."

"Oh," he nodded. "I'm sorry."

She looked away and seemed to fight the tears.

"Why are you so interested in my art?" She asked softly.

He sighed and rose.

"I own an art gallery in Los Angeles," he answered. "Your art would fit in nicely there, and I would love to sell a few paintings for you."

"I don't know," she hesitated.

Doyle gave her a quick smile.

"Think about it," he warmly said and gave her his business card. "Call me."

Buffy gave him a brief smile

"I will," she said and followed him to the door. "Bye."

"Yes," he answered. "Bye."

-#-#-#-

Hesitantly she picked up her phone and dialed the number to him. A week had gone by since he visited her, she had now decided to take his offer. She didn't have much money left on her bank account. Not that it had been much from the beginning, but now it was next to empty, and an apartment in New York did cost a lot. If she sold a few pieces of her art and agreed to exhibit her art at Doyle's gallery, then she could buy a new apartment in LA and didn't have to rely on the few hundred dollars left on her account. It was the only way left besides moving back to Sunnydale, and she definitely wasn't ready to face her past yet.

The dial tone rang once, twice. Then someone picked up the phone.

"Doyle's art," a male said.

"Hello," She said. "It's Buffy Summers."

"Yes, I remember," the voice warmly said. "It's Doyle. So you decided to take up on my offer?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Great!" he laughed. "Do you think you can make it down here to make out the terms this weekend? I want to make your art our first exhibition when we re-open after our renovation. Maybe even make it permanent."

"Maybe," she answered. "I can probably come earlier too if you want me. I'm thinking on moving to LA."

"You are?" he commented. "Then let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Gregory Maine. He's a real estate agent."

"Sure," she smiled. "Do you want me to bring some of my art?"

"Do you think you can bring all of it?" he asked in return.

Buffy laughed.

"No," she answered. "I have over a hundred paintings here. There's no way I can bring them all in a bag or something."

"A hundred?" he asked. "Wow. I can send you my private plane if you want me to. You can bring them all then, and follow them on the way."

"If it's not too much trouble," she hesitated.

"It's not," he assured her. "I'll send someone to help you pack tomorrow at twelve. See you here?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Bye!"

-#-#-#-

Pain. Everything was pain. Nothing else existed. Nothing else but her. His mate, his love. Her. He could remember the sweet smell of her, the golden aura around her tiny, perfect body. Her wonderful, soft voice speaking to him. He'd forgotten his name hundreds of years ago, but hers was still in his mind. Buffy. They hadn't made him forget her, and they never could. She was his lifeline.

Suddenly, he felt something pull at his body. He screamed and fumbled for something to hold on to. Dreading the new pain, he concentrated on his Buffy. Then he became aware of something strange about the pulling. It didn't hurt. It actually felt good. He opened his eyes and they were met by a painful white light. A scream tore from his throat as a ripping pain shot trough his body. Then everything went black.

As he opened his eyes again, he was laying on something soft and the pain wasn't there. He tried to sit up, but was gently pushed back by two hands.

"Don't," a soft voice told him. "Rest. Your body needs time to heal and your mind time to remember. Sleep. You're safe now. They can't hurt you."

He tried to form his lips to the only word he knew. And at the end he succeeded.

"B-Buffy?" He whispered.

"She's safe," the voice calmed him. "Sleep now."

Contended that she was safe he closed his eyes and slept.

He remembered. He remembered everything. Angel opened his eyes and sat up. He was in a familiar room. Buffy's. Mr. Gordo was laying next to him and the blinds were down, indicating that it was day. A well known human sat by the door. Willow. And she was reading a book.

"Willow," he stated.

As he spoke, she looked up and smiled brightly at him.

"You're awake!" She exclaimed.

"Yes," Angel agreed. "Now I want to know why I'm here, when I deserve to be in Hell for all eternity, making amends for everyone I hurt. Especially Buffy. I hurt you, Willow. I'm a monster. I don't deserve to live!"

"I brought you out of Hell," Willow said gently. "I wouldn't have done that if you were a danger to anyone. And it wasn't you that hurt anyone. It was him, Angelus."

"Yes?" Angel harshly said. "Soul or not, it's still me."

"NO, Angel," Willow shook her head. "And you know it. You and Angelus is clearly separated. When he is in control, there's nothing you can do but watch. What you can't stop, you're not responsible for."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But still, the control I have is weak. What if he breaks through once again?"

Willow started to laugh as Angel glared at her.

"I can't see the funny thing in Angelus killing you all," Angel pointed out.

"No," Willow agreed. "It's just that I brought you out of Hell. I never said anything about Angelus. He's still there. The curse is gone, Angel, and you're free from Angelus. But you're still a vampire. Well, not in the carnal sense. The only thing vampiric about you is your game face, your strength and senses, and your immortality."

Angel's brooding face cracked up in a huge smile, his eyes shining.

"Buffy," he started but stopped as he saw Willow's sad face.

"Angel," she softly said. "She's disappeared. We haven't seen her since she sent you to Hell, and that was almost nine months ago. No one has the faintest idea where she is."

The happiness in his face disappeared and his eyes darkened.

"Buffy," was all he said, then he broke down.

All of them sat in Joyce's living room as he came down. Cordy, Xander, Willow, Oz, Giles and Joyce. At the sight of him, Xander rose and went over to him.

"I'm sorry," was all he said as he offered him his hand.

Angel smiled a little, then accepted his hand. Then he turned to all the others.

"I'm so sorry for all he did to you," he whispered. "I don't deserve forgiveness, I know, but please, help me find Buffy."

He looked at them, his eyes pained and pleading.

"Angelus isn't you," Giles said firmly. "You are my friend, Angel. But Angelus, him I hate. He killed Jenny, and I will never forgive him for that. But as I said, he's not you, and he will never be."

"Yes," Xander agreed. "I know I haven't been a member of your fan club exactly, but after seeing your alter-ego... Well, lets just say I decided you weren't so bad after all. Even if it took a few days of explaining from Willow and Giles to make me understand, or even listen."

Angel smiled a little. He knew Xander could be very stubborn when it came to him, or any other vampire for that matter.

"Thank you," he said, meaning it from the bottom of his unbeating heart. "Do you know anything at all about Buffy's whereabouts?"

"No," Joyce stated. "We've tried everything, but we can't find a trace."

Angel gave her a Look.

"Of course not," he pointed out. "Remember Kendra? It isn't too hard getting what you want without money. I have money, lots and lots of it. Still I manage without them. It's just about being charming and intelligent. She could be in Greece by now if she wanted to. But if I know her as well as I think I do, she hasn't left USA. Moved as far away from you as possible, yes, left the country, no. Personally, I would suggest searching for traces of her far away from here, the east coast with New York for example."

"OK," Willow chirped. "Time to do what I do best. Hack into others computers."

Against their will, no one could help but laugh at that.

-#-#-#-

As she put up the few paintings she'd decided to keep, she couldn't help but remember all those happy days in Sunnydale. Laughing with her friends, training with Giles, making out with Angel... Buffy sighed. It was so hard being separated from them. But she managed. She'd found the apartment the same day she returned to LA, with the help of Doyle's friend, and she'd fallen in love the first minute she saw it. Today, she would inaugurate the exhibition of her art in 'Doyle's art', so she wanted to get finished with moving in, 'cause before she went to the exhibition she had to shower and change.

Doyle had already bought one of her paintings, one of her and Angel walking together on the beach. It wasn't one of her best, but he seemed to like it. They'd put up her paintings the day before and most of the paintings he'd chosen had been of Angel, or her and Angel. But there were plenty of pictures representing her other friends as well. And the main painting was of her and Angel together, as they'd been in one of her fantasies. Dressed wholly in white, smiling broadly and standing in the glowing sun, looking at herself, also wearing white, with a big smile on her face. It was her favorite, and Doyle seemed to like it as well.

Angel. She couldn't believe she managed to live without him. Buffy missed his warm presence, his cold body, his loving words. But most of all she missed him. His soul, the thing that made him who he was. She would never see him again, he was dead. He was dead because of that damn happiness clause! Buffy hated the person who'd cast the curse, but most of all she hated herself. If she'd been stronger, and never had fallen in love with him, then he would be alive, with his soul intact. Everything was her fault!

Wiping away the tears running down her cheeks she went into her bedroom to change and shower. She had to be in the gallery in an hour.

-#-#-#-

Angel was sitting on the beach, watching the waves rolling onto the shore. During the weeks that had gone since his return, he'd spent much time in the sun, and now his skin had a nice tan. But still he wore black. Buffy was gone, and with her, his reason to live.

They'd fought to find her, and almost succeeded. But then Buffy had moved. She had lived in a small apartment in New York since her department, but now she had disappeared. He missed her like hell. It had gone hundreds of years in Hell since he saw her the last time. The time went by slower in Hell, and what had seemed to be eight months for them, had been close to eight hundred years for him. And the only thing keeping him sane had been Buffy. Then, when he returned, she was gone.

Angel reached into his pocket and took out a worn paper.

"Mom" it read. "I've decided to leave Sunnydale. For good. I can't live here with all these memories, it's too hard. And being a vampire slayer, I have lots of bad memories. Especially this last one... Please mom, go to Giles, he can explain everything. I know you have many questions, but as you read this, I will not be around to ask. And...please tell them (Giles, Cordy, Xander, Willow & Oz) that the spell worked. But I still had to do it. I will never forget. Forgive me mom, but I can't take living here anymore. Buffy."

That was the only thing she left behind. Joyce, Buffy's mom, had given it to him, understanding his need to have something to hold on to. Angel looked down on his left hand, where the claddagh still was, with the heart facing inwards. He belonged to Buffy, as he always would.

Suddenly his vampire senses caught the sound of someone walking towards him. Angel rose and turned. It was Joyce.

"Angel," she said calmly.

"Joyce," he replied with a nod. "Did you want me something?"

She nodded.

"Yes," she answered. "A famous art gallery is reopening in LA. The artist is rumored to be very talented. I wondered if you'd like to accompany me there?"

He shrugged. Anything to take his mind of Buffy was welcome, and he liked art.

"Why not?"

-#-#-#-

As he entered the gallery his heart stopped beating, or would have, if it had beaten. Because the sight that welcomed him took him completely by surprise. In front of him was an enormous portrait of him and Buffy wearing white, looking at each other in the sun. Joyce walked into him as he stopped and looked curiously at him.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He made a few strangled sounds gesturing towards the painting. She glanced at it, and then just stared.

"T-t-that's you and B-Buffy!" She stammered.

"Yes," he agreed as the pain started to rise inside him. "Look around."

'Cause at the same time as Joyce saw the painting, he discovered that all the paintings were of the Scooby Gang. Willow, Oz, Xander, Cordy, Giles. Himself. And a couple of Buffy. They seemed to be so real! He half expected them to become real. But the scary thing were all the paintings of him and Buffy. Things that only he and she knew. There was only one woman who could have drawn those pictures. Buffy.

And at the same time, he spotted her. She was standing on the other side of the room, dressed in a black dress with her golden hair hanging freely around her face past her shoulders. Buffy was alive and here in LA

"Buffy!" Was all he could say as his eyes locked with hers.

-#-#-#-

Buffy was tired of being social. Of course it was fun that everyone liked her art, but she didn't like having to smile and be charming when she was crying inside. Walking among all the paintings brought up so many memories! And she didn't know how many slutty women who had asked who the handsome man on the painting was. It hurt so badly!

Then she spotted him. He was standing by the entrance, just looking at her. His dark brown hair was spiky, and he wore black slacks and a black shirt, being totally gorgeous as usual. The only thing different about him was the deep tan. But she knew it was him. She could feel it in her heart. And seconds later, he caught her green eyes with his chocolate ones.

"Angel," she whispered.

-#-#-#-

Doyle watched as Buffy and the tall, dark man from the paintings spotted each other. They seemed to freeze on the spot, and he got the feeling that they didn't see anything but each other. He didn't see who moved first, but before he knew it, they hugged each other tightly in the middle of the room, crying. The next second, they kissed each other passionately, as if they hadn't seen each other in years. But one thing he knew for sure, they would never be apart again.

-#-#-#-

Buffy cried as she stood in Angel's arms. He was back! She couldn't believe it!

"You're back!" She whispered.

"Yes," he answered against her hair. "Forever."

"Buffy!" She heard a woman exclaim.

Smiling, she turned in her lover's arms and greeted her mother.

"Hi, mom," she said hoarsely.

Her mother looked pleadingly at her.

"Will you come back?" She asked.

She smiled.

"When Angel's back, I'm back," she whispered.

-#-#-#-

She was sleeping deeply in his arms. It was hard to believe they were finally together again. He knew there was still much to work out, but for now, he was happy just to be with her again. As he tightened his grip around her, she woke up and smiled sleepily at him.

"Love you, Angel," she mumbled.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Love you too, Buffy. Forever."

She gave him a quick kiss and snuggled closer to him. Soon, both were asleep, dreaming happy dreams about their future together.

**The End**


End file.
